by Paige Elizabeth Wajda

we mimic what used to resonate
in the shadowless depths, strolling 

the crunchy, phosphorescent shores
we, faces of the 30th century,

slide around the tips of steeples
and wonder about the whales,

weighty as a well-worn bridge.
How have they slipped into the stars?

What mighty wings they must
have grown, in order to depart.

For surely man could not have hunted
the noble giant who sang

mooing melodies at bedtime.
For surely they could not have ruptured

the flesh of his side, thick as rubber.
For surely it would have been as futile

as taking an axe to an armory, a straw to drink
the ocean, a solitary watt in a dark room.

Yet how did no one
notice their ascension? 

Paige Elizabeth Wajda is from California. She spent four years teaching English in Poland before earning a Master’s in Creative Writing from the University of Edinburgh. Her work has recently appeared in The Blue Nib, ROPES, Outposts of Beyond, and elsewhere. In April 2020 she was awarded a "Keep Art Alive" grant from the California Desert Arts Council. Find her online at